The moon is low,
stars up above,
and this is the night to tell you of love.
Alone we two,
a campfire gleams.
Tonight we will find
the trail of our dreams.
The purple hills,
this call of the west,
your face close to mine,
our lips are pressed.
The moon is low,
stars up above,
and this is the night
to tell you of love.
The purple hills,
this call of the west, your face close to mine,
our lips are pressed.
The moon is low, stars
up above,
and this is the night to tell you of love.
